


Jealous

by unicornball



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas likes wet!Dean, Castiel-centric POV, M/M, Possible spoilers for season 10, Prompt Fill, Song lyrics--Jealous by Labrinth, Unresolved Sexual Tension, pining!Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 01:14:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2832803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicornball/pseuds/unicornball
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <strong>Castiel's eyes widened and his pulse kicked up when he saw the smile on Dean's face. The low rumble of Dean's laughter was almost drowned out by the sound of the rain hitting the leaves and earth around him. Even with the cool rain water battering his face, it felt hot. He'd handled many difficult tasks but completely suppressing the many feelings he had towards Dean Winchester proved to be nigh impossible.</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>He watched, enraptured.</strong>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jealous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mizackles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizackles/gifts).



> _Soooo... another prompt from Mizackles. I know I have some others I haven't finished, but I liked this one, too... oh, the feels! It's probably one of the few canon!verse fics I've done for Destiel (and/or Supernatural) and I'm going to say it's set around 10.06; Dean ditched the black eyes and Cas is mojo'd again with another "borrowed" Grace. I don't think there's going to be spoilers, but just in case—consider this your SPOILER ALERT warning, mmmkay?_  
>  _The prompt:_ "I need a Destiel fic with pining!Cas. they get caught in a rainstorm ...and Dean doesn't care he just stays out in it dancing around acting like an idiot (while Cas tries to shelter under a tree). Cas watches him ...realises how much he loves him... description of how gorgeous wet!Dean looks ...Cas pines that Dean will never love him back.  
>  include these lyrics which gave me the feels & the prompt idea...  
> I'm jealous of the rain  
> That falls upon your skin  
> It's closer than my hands have been  
> I'm jealous of the rain  
> (Jealous by Labrinth)  
> Pretty please with Cas flavoured sprinkles on top"  
>  _(Lovely song, BTW.) Aaaaand boom! This is probably the quickest I've ever written anything... woah. Hopefully it's not riddled with errors..._
> 
>  
> 
> _Enjoy._

It was probably pathetic, but Castiel was happy to take any excuse for being near Dean. Especially when he was in a good mood, smiling and enjoying the simple pleasure of a nice day.

Castiel watched Dean carefully, taking note of each instruction as Dean gave running commentary as he went through the procedure of prepping and then washing the Impala.

He nearly rolled his eyes when Dean had started by rolling the windows up and feeling the need to say so aloud. (As if Castiel wouldn't've known that before hand. He nodded encouragingly, though, mostly so Dean wouldn't get annoyed and send him back inside.)

The proper soap— _car soap_ , Dean stressed with a finger pointed at him, not that Palmolive shit they used on the dishes—to water ratio. A carefully measured 3 to 1; ensuring it would sud properly, not be too harsh, and not be too thick to make rinsing a pain in the ass. Castiel looked in the bucket at the thick white foam when Dean pointed at the bucket, nodding to show he'd carefully noted consistency.

The proper way to pre-rinse the car so the gritty particulates of dirt and grime didn't scratch the finish.

The soft, specially designed sponge Dean took great care in thoroughly soaking and wringing out just-so, leaving it wet but not too wet.

The proper way to move the sponge. Swirls were a no-go. Long, straight sweeps of the sponge.

He didn't comment about the steps he had a feeling were unnecessary, he just listened and quietly observed. Content to just watch Dean as he worked, his low voice a soothing background to the fluid movements of his body bending and stretching as he washed the Impala's roof and hood first. (Apparently, top to bottom was the way to go.) He lost a few instructions here or there, his attention wandering to the flex of a bicep or the muscles moving and flexing in Dean's back.

He was often just as distracted by the soft expression on Dean's face. The smooth, unworried line of his brow as he worked on something that seemed to calm his usually tense posture, something deemed worthwhile, important. The occasional, flash of pink between full lips; an unselfconscious act of focus, the tip of tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he went about his task.

Castiel wondered if it was more than a little blasphemous to feel the warm, heady prickly bubble of pride work through him as he watched, reveling in the knowledge that Dean could relax in his presence. That Dean could do a task deemed private with him there, that he still found peace doing a simple task that he usually preferred to handle alone. He soaped up the headlights with careful sweeps of his sponge, remembering Sam's advice, but mostly just watched.

Dean didn't seem to mind, though. Castiel enjoyed the smiles Dean sent his way as he dunked the sponge in the bucket.

Castiel looked up as a raindrop hit the back of his neck. His brow furrowed, unsure what they were going to do now. Dean was only half-way through soaping the car's exterior; no where near ready to rinse and repeat. He looked over, surprised, when he heard Dean chuckle. He hadn't expected Dean to enjoy the sudden turn in weather.

"Figures," Dean said through an amused huff as he tossed the sponge into the soapy water. He looked up too, blinking a few times when a raindrop plopped right into his eye. "Son of a bitch," he muttered, rubbing at the sting through his eyelid.

The next moment, the scattered rain drops turned into a deluge; rain falling fast and hard enough to soak them both within moments and completely wash away the previous attempts at washing the car. Castiel watched the soap run off in fat streams and narrow rivulets, puddling white and foamy in the rapidly darkening driveway.

In his brief stint as a human, Castiel had learned he did not enjoy being wet. Even showers were an unpleasant thing, an annoyance that was barely tolerable because of the soothing warm water and pleasant smelling soaps and liquids used to get clean.

Rain, when fully clothed, was especially _un_ pleasant. His clothes were heavy and sticking to him uncomfortably in moments. He ducked his head and rushed towards the closest shelter, towards the copse at the edge of the pebbled driveway. The trees were sparse, barely affording any protection from the rain and he lamented his choice of cover. He should've gone towards the still open garage. He wiped at his face, pushing his wet hair out of his face. He expected Dean to join him, or maybe head into the garage to get out of the rain, but he realized the other man was still standing by the car.

His eyes widened and his pulse kicked up when he saw the smile on Dean's face. The low rumble of Dean's laughter was almost drowned out by the sound of the rain hitting the leaves and earth around him. Even with the cool rain water battering his face, it felt hot. He'd handled many difficult tasks but completely suppressing the many feelings he had towards Dean Winchester proved to be nigh impossible.

Castiel watched, enraptured. He felt heavy and light at the same time, hot and cold. He didn't enjoy this part so much. He knew he was alone in these feelings, having received any hint at all that Dean's palms got damp around him. That his heart felt heavy and constricted in a pleasant way when he heard Castiel's voice. That his body tingled in new ways when they touched, even the barest brushing of a hand or fingertips made his nerve endings explode.

It was... disconcerting.

Excruciating, quite honestly. He didn't know how so many people could live through such feelings, such sensations. He swallowed past a lump in his throat, almost hating the lingering humanity that allowed him to feel such things. Such things he had no hope of ever being returned in any capacity. He knew Dean's feelings were of a brotherly sort; he'd said so. He knew Dean preferred women; he'd seen the proof of that often, more often than he was entirely comfortable with. He knew he was, as it was said, barking up the wrong tree...

But it was impossible to stop. He'd given up long ago. Now he only strived to conceal, keep himself from reacting in ways that would show Dean too much. Moments he felt it safe to look freely, he did, though, unable to control the impulse and mentally cursing his moments of weakness and stupid human emotions.

He leaned against the tree, barely feeling the rough bark against his wet skin. He wondered what Dean was thinking about as he stood in the rain, his face tilted up a little, eyes closed and a small smile on his face. Honestly, Castiel forgot all about being soggy and chilled as he stared, his chest tightening in a now-familiar way as he stared at Dean.

Part of him was disappointed Dean didn't realize he was no longer by his side... But another was thrilling with the chance to observe Dean without being seen, the opportunity to study Dean without the other man seeing and remarking on it. He had a strong feeling that he would not be witnessing the bizarre dance slash washing technique Dean was employing otherwise.

His gaze lingered on the sway of Dean's hips, his lip sucked in between his teeth in a completely involuntary movement when Dean shimmied, hips bumping and gyrating as he swiped the sponge against the car's exterior. He hadn't realized Dean could move like that. He wasn't sure if it was fortunate or unfortunate that he'd witnessed it, especially when the movements took on a decidedly carnal feel.

Castiel was quite sure his brief time spent as a human was the cause of him being able to properly label the feelings going through him now; the hot, syrupy feelings of desire. The warmth of affection. The sharp, almost uncomfortably acute, feeling of love. He'd felt these things before, muted with the buffer between vessel and his Grace. He'd been disconcerted but unsure what his vessel was doing, unsure how to interpret the feelings and sensations he'd started to feel.

The one time he'd brought it up to Sam, they'd concluded it was must've been something 'left over' from Jimmy. Castiel figured it was as good an explanation as any, even if it didn't feel entirely accurate. He hadn't given Sam all the details, after all.

He'd considered telling Sam it rarely happened when he wasn't in Dean's presence (or thinking about him), but he figured that would only lead to more questions and awkward situations in the future. When he'd later pinpointed the _cause_ of such feelings, he'd been relived he hadn't done so; he didn't want to imagine Sam's reaction to hearing of such things about Dean. He knew there were lines the Winchesters drew when it came to their personal lives. Sam would most likely show him pity or disgust for having such feelings for his brother. It wasn't something he was willing to risk.

But, under the cover of trees and the rain, effectively cloaked from view, Castiel indulged in his desire to look. He didn't drop his gaze like he normally would when his thoughts edged into dangerous territory.

Dean's clothes clung to his body as he moved, his dancing slowing down as his clothing became more sodden and heavy. The fabric wet and clingy in the most alluringly taunting way. Castiel's gaze eagerly swept over every detail, internally marveling at how the fabrics molded almost lovingly his body. The thin, heather grey T-shirt clinging to broad shoulders and corded muscles of Dean's arms. Water-darkened denim seemed like a second skin to a well-formed rear and highlighting the bow to Dean's strong legs. He smiled as Dean continued his fruitless endeavor of washing the car, his calves flexing as he leaned up to wash the roof, the slightest hip-bump to accompany the reach.

Soapy water trailed down Dean's arm, running down his sides and belly before getting washed away in the rain. Castiel felt helpless to look away when Dean tossed the sponge onto the Impala's roof and ran his hands over his chest and stomach, attempting to wick water away and squeezing the end of his shirt. Water dripped down in a steady stream, but Castiel wasn't watching that.

He shamelessly ogled Dean's chest and stomach, wishing not for the first time he could touch and feel the warm, smooth skin. Maybe dig his fingertips into hint of softness there, see if the area was sensitive to touch, if it would bring out a breathless laugh and a heated look. Motivate Dean into kissing him, perhaps. It was such things that he knew he shouldn't be thinking about, shouldn't enjoying but still made desire sit hot and heavy in his belly and most times he couldn't be bothered to tell himself it was wrong, no matter that he knew to the contrary.

His gaze flicked upwards. Dean's hair was wet and plastered to his forehead with the weight of the water. His fingers twitched with the urge to push it back, maybe see if he could form it into a upright shape like he knew Dean was wont to do when it was sudsy with shampoo. Knowing that Dean wouldn't appreciate such an intimate touch, from him especially, kept him still and watching from afar.

Small rivulets of rain water flowed down Dean's face, following the curves and angles of his features. Even from the distance he was at, Castiel could see the way his lashes were darkened and clumped together with the water. He didn't understand why it only served to bring out the green of Dean's eyes, the color almost startling in its clarity and brightness, but he enjoyed it nonetheless. He thought Dean's eyes were the most expressive thing about the man. He watched them carefully, praying to see something warm and special...

It wasn't until that last thought that he felt uncomfortable in his spying. He knew Dean well enough to know he wouldn't appreciate the sentiment, wouldn't want him to think that about him or want such things from him. He didn't think Dean was cruel enough to mock or tease him, not even with the Mark staining his skin and tinging his soul, but he was too fearful of the possibility to do anything more than keep his observations distant. Safely under a mental lock and key, suppressed and hidden like he observed many males doing.

Keep his hands to himself. His feelings hidden and let it manifest only in ways of friendship and protection.

_Safe_ ways that didn't make Dean avoid him or give him mistrustful looks. That wouldn't have Sam furrow his brow and stare like he was a puzzle or a book that he was trying to decipher. It never failed to induce a feeling of panic and fear in his, tightening his chest and making his stomach swoop alarmingly.

An appropriate song drifted through his thoughts, unbidden, as he enjoyed one last long look at a gorgeous, wet Dean. A song he'd heard drifting through the Bunker one day when Sam had control of the radio long enough to play something that wasn't 'mullet rock' and recorded in the last decade. He hummed it under his breath, the tune slow and melodious, a small sad smile twitching his lips for a moment. "I'm jealous of the rain that falls upon your skin," he sung softly, eyes fluttering closed as he remembered the rest. "It's closer than my hands have been. I'm jealous of the rain."

He remembered how he felt hearing that song, having felt that slick sting of jealousy by that point, asking Sam if all songs were so moving or personal. Sam had only given him and inscrutable look, shrugged one shoulder and said "Music comes from the soul, Cas." At the time, he thought it borderline trite and dismissive. Now... he understood what Sam meant. It didn't make his feelings easier to handle or understand, but it was oddly reassuring to know he wasn't alone in such things.

"Cas!"

Castiel startled, wiping rain from his face and hoping the warmth under his palm wasn't visible. His skin was flushed; hot from his cheeks all the way down to his chest. His sagging, wet clothes wouldn't hide it if Dean looked closely. Dean was grinning and waving a hand at him, beckoning him over. Castiel silently sighed, unable to refuse. He ducked his head down, a rather useless gesture since he was already soaked through, and headed towards Dean. He was completely unprepared for the bucket of slightly soapy water that splashed his chest.

The bright sound of Dean's laughter made up for any irritation, vanished the disgruntled furrow in his brow. Besides, it wasn't as if he could get any wetter.

He eyed the sponge laying by his feet, contemplating if it could be useful in a retaliatory gesture. Thankfully, his reflexes were as quick as they'd ever been and he had it in his hands and pressed over the top of Dean's head in a blink. Most of the soap had been rinsed out, but the sponge was still heavy with water. It was satisfying to see the rush of water down the sides of Dean's head, but mostly just the stunned expression on his face. He grinned triumphantly, laughing outright when Dean made an indignant squawking sound as he batted away his hand and the wrung-out sponge.

His now-empty hand fell down and settled on the Dean's shoulder, close to his neck, for a moment. He wanted to curl his fingers in, maybe stroke along the line of smooth, wet skin with the pad of his thumb, feel the fluttering pulse point under his fingertips. He licked his lips, tasting rainwater and idly wondering why they felt tingly and numb. He stared at Dean, taking the moment to enjoy the clumped, wet lashes, bright green eyes and lightly flushed cheeks up close.

He dropped his hand, that nervous feeling flooding back, fear that Dean would see, yell, walk away forever. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, the wet fabric hard to move but he managed. The vise-like constriction that had settled in his chest loosened a little when Dean grinned at him, ruffling his wet hair until it felt like it was standing completely upright for a moment until being flattened again in the pelting rain.

The tight feeling in his chest loosened even more when Dean's smile softened to something almost sweet, and clapped him on the shoulder. Dean turned away with one last pat and started gathering the various car washing paraphernalia. Castiel retrieved the sponge and dropped it into the now empty bucket, gaze trained on it instead of on Dean.

"I'm sorry we couldn't finish, Dean."

Dean shrugged, face tilting upwards again to let the spring rain patter on his face again. It was almost as awesome as the huge ass shower heads in the Bunker's mega-bathroom. "S'okay, Cas," he finally said, head back and eyes still closed. The rain was already started to taper off, but he wasn't a fan of wet underwear clinging in hard-to-reach areas. He knew Cas had to be just as uncomfortable; dude looked like a wet cat, all pissed off and ready to hiss at something.

Castiel was a little bummed they didn't get to finish, but he really couldn't regret having witnessed a wet, happy Dean Winchester for anything. He nodded his agreement and followed Dean into the garage.


End file.
